


The Way Back

by Lisafer



Category: Protector of the Small - Tamora Pierce, Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: F/M, May-December Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-20
Updated: 2010-09-20
Packaged: 2017-10-12 01:28:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/119272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lisafer/pseuds/Lisafer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kel travels to Cavall on the king's order, to bring Wyldon out of his retirement, and has to face a man who's been changed by all the things that made him resign in the first place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Way Back

"What in the world are you doing here, Keladry?" Lord Wyldon asked as Kel rode up to the keep in the late afternoon sun. It wasn't accusatory – it was a simple question. She was clearly the last person he expected to show up at his home, and she couldn't blame him for his shock.

Dismounting, she handed Peachblossom's reins to an hostler. "Be careful," she warned. "He can be temperamental."

The hostler smirked slightly. "I would say the same," he whispered, nodding toward Wyldon.

The young man expected some kind of conspiratorial smile, so she grimaced and then crossed the gravel courtyard to stand in front of her former district commander, who was greeting Jump with an affectionate ear-scratch. "The king sent me here," she explained, giving him a scroll case with the royal seal embossed in the leather. "You're wanted back in service."

"Does the king not understand that my resignation was permanent?" he asked, showing more signs of temper than Kel had ever been accustomed to. He removed the message, unrolling it and reading it very quickly. "And why were you sent to deliver it?" he asked, raising one eyebrow inquisitively.

"His majesty said I am better able to appeal to reason and chivalry than a courier."

Wyldon sighed and began walking to the keep, beckoning for her to follow. "You should come in – have something to eat. Were you on your way back to the border?"

"No, sir," she answered. "I was given a new assignment directly from his Majesty. You."

He stopped in his tracks and spun on his heel to look at her. It was an expression that, years before, would have left her nearly quaking in her shoes. " _What_ did you say?"

"I was told to stay here until you're willing to return to Corus to speak to the king and queen."

"Then you will be staying for quite some time." He resumed walking, his stride long.

Kel followed him into the keep, curiously looking around. She had never been to Cavall, and was unsure what to expect. It was larger than Mindelan, certainly, but much quieter. Three of his four daughters were married and living on their husbands' lands, she knew, and the other was a priestess of the Goddess in Corus. In the great room a rocking horse sat next to a wooden chest she assumed was filled with children's toys – evidence of his daughters' visits, she suspected. Paintings and tapestries covered the mahogany walls – the Cavall coat of arms was featured prominently.

He led her to a small study off of the main room; it looked almost exactly like the austere office he had kept in the palace, or at Fort Mastiff, down to the small stone hawk on the corner of his desk. "Sit," he said gruffly.

She complied.

"Did the king say that a letter was unacceptable?" he asked, pulling out a vial of ink.

"Yes, sir."

He stopped short, looking at her with hard eyes. "He actually said that." It was a statement rather than a question.

She half-smiled at him. "You might remember that I was squire to Lord Raoul. I know what it's like to deal with a reluctant person. I told the king that you would likely send me back with a statement. I was instructed to inform you that you must offer your refusal in person."

"And he was certain I would refuse, was he?"

She nodded. "He didn't say why, but he knew it was likely."

"You, of all people, should know," Wyldon said, his eyes hard. "You're filthy from the road. I'll have Joriana draw a bath for you, and then we can take supper and discuss this further."

 

Joriana, the elderly housekeeper, showed Kel up to a room on the second floor. "It's nice to see my lord entertaining guests," she said with a motherly smile. "Over the last year the only ones who've come by have been family."

She dumped a steaming hot bucket of water into the wooden bathtub in one corner of the room. "I made sure a fire was built up. May is usually much warmer here in Cavall, but winter lingered, so the nights get cold."

Kel thanked her and, once alone, began to wash. She was exhausted and dirty from her ride and wanted nothing more than to fall asleep in the hot water, but her mind was not as fatigued as her body – it raced with memories she had kept at bay for quite some time.

_"I think it's wonderful that you're allowing such festivities even in war-time," Kel said over the rim of her mug of steaming hot tea. Midwinter would begin in a day, and soldiers had decorated the officers' mess with holly and wreaths._

_"I can hardly prevent my men from celebrating," Wyldon replied, his wide mouth twisting slightly at the corners. "Especially with the treaty being worked out – there are fewer skirmishes and less reason for the foot soldiers to be as cautious as you or I would prefer._

_"How goes New Hope?"_

_She shrugged. "We're slowly moving out. People have built houses rather than staying in the refugee housing – the mess hall has been converted into a town hall of sorts. We still feed the soldiers there, and the military staff – but most of the villagers who've remained have found their own accommodations. They want Neal to stay on, but he's told me that he's been requested at Steadfast He's assuming you'll send him there."_

_"And Merric?"_

_"Awaiting your orders to relocate him."_

_Wyldon nodded approvingly. "I was planning to return with you in order to relieve him and give him his new orders. How about you, Keladry?" His eyes seemed warmer, friendlier, and her heart beat a little faster. "Are you looking forward to relocation?"_

_"Yes and no," she replied. "It will be nice to stop writing reports and having people stop questioning me all the time. But I'll miss a lot of it, too. I like being able to help them."_

_He smiled at her – something she still had not become accustomed to over the last two years. "You always confirm the reasons I put you in charge of the refugee camp."_

_She returned his smile warmly. He was among the men she respected most in the world, and she liked the notion that he was pleased with her work._

_He was about to say something, but closed his mouth, grimacing. "I'm afraid I have some reports to go over," he said finally. He bowed and left the mess hall, leaving Kel a little confused. She was even more confused by the sinking feeling in her chest – she had wanted to speak with him longer._

 

They ate dinner quietly together; he asked about their various mutual acquaintances and gave her the latest news of Owen and his wife. It was strange to think that he was closer to Owen than she was in any way – but Owen had been his son-in-law for some time now.

"But this is not what you came here to discuss," he said finally, pushing his plate away from him.

"No it's not. Onto the subject you've been avoiding, sir." He winced, and she continued, ignoring the sudden rush of nervousness. "Will you return to Corus in the king's service?"

"No," he replied shortly. "And you will relay this message."

She shook her head. "The king won't stand for that."

Wyldon sighed. "You do not want to enter a battle of wills with me, Mindelan. You will not win."

"I don't understand, my lord. Haven't you missed it?"

He studied her for a long time before replying. "There are times when I do. I spent my whole life training for war. But the war is long over, and better knights have stepped up to fill my role."

"I disagree, sir," Kel said, looking down at her empty plate. "The knight who took your place as district commander is not better. Sir Jerel is a good man, and was a fine leader during the war – but he's nothing compared to you."

"Come now, Mindelan. There is no reason to fool yourself. And there is no reason to discuss this, because I won't be returning. I'm content with my current role in life."

"What do you _do_?" Kel couldn't help but ask.

"Train the hounds," he answered, turning his fork over in his hands. "Manage the stables. Handle the issues that arise from the tenants who farm the Cavall lands."

"And I'm supposed to believe this satisfies you, sir?"

"My satisfaction is not your concern, Keladry," he said, gazing at her squarely. "Those activities were tended to by my wife while I was at the front. Now that she is gone, I have taken them over."

Kel said nothing, lowering her eyes again. Lady Vivenne's passing two years before had shocked the nobles of Tortall. Guests at her youngest daughter's wedding only two months prior to her passing said that she had not seemed to be at death's door. But healers – including Neal – confirmed that she had been sick for a good deal of time before the wedding, even.

Kel had not attended that wedding. Owen had invited her to come, of course, and it broke her heart to turn him down. But she had been overly occupied with New Hope and its transition from refugee camp to a legitimate town. It was a distraction, certainly, but the work needed to be done, just the same. She used the two weeks earmarked for travel in order to help Fanche, the town's headwoman, move into the building previously dedicated for staff headquarters. Kel wrote her final report for Lord Wyldon, moved into one of the small rooms over the infirmary, and waited to be reassigned.

But Neal had returned to New Hope on his way to his new assignment at Steadfast and told her the news from Cavall, along with bright descriptions of the happy couple and their proud parents. He described the music and the dancing, and every minute detail he could think of down to the attire of the bride's father.

And she had listened, clenching her fists on her lap beneath the table and trying to not think of what had happened only a month before - memories that she battled this very evening at Cavall.

_"Continuing with the Midwinter celebrations, Keladry?" Lord Wyldon had asked, one eyebrow arched._

_"It was Saefas's idea," Kel replied with a grin. "I rather like it. We haven't had much to celebrate over the last few years – but many of the refugees are returning to their homes. Others are making new homes here. Merric and Neal are moving on next month, and I'm sure I'll be reassigned not long after them. So this is a sort of farewell party. The metaphorical darkest night of the year is long over for New Hope." She looked down at her mug of cider, feeling sheepish. "I'm rambling, aren't I?"_

_He looked at her quizzically. "Rather unlike you, Keladry. I suspect it's the wine."_

_She shook her head. "I don't drink, sir."_

_"I think I knew that. I should've suspected, at any rate," he leaned against the wall casually, watching the groups of dancing refugees – no, townspeople. "You and I are alike in many ways and I think one is that neither of us like feeling out of control."_

_Kel smiled, nodding her head. She didn't quite understand why she felt so strange standing with her district commander. They had grown closer over the years – perhaps a normal friendship would have evolved if he had not been her commanding officer. But since leaving Mastiff earlier in the holiday week she had grown uneasy with her reaction to Lord Wyldon. She had always considered him handsome, but she found herself with the fluttery sensation she had known since she'd first become infatuated with boys as a page._

_"You have some fine musicians here," Wyldon said, his eyes on the makeshift stage at one end of the building that had once been the mess hall. They'd converted into a meeting place for the townspeople. Most of the refugees took their dinners in the small homes that sprouted up over time, within and even outside of the walls of New Hope._

_A young woman fiddled in the style known to northern Tortall – it lilted perfectly for dancing. A younger boy played a pretty descant on the flute. When they finished and adjusted their instruments, a drummer joined them to play a light and happy Midwinter tune; several townspeople began to dance. They did not look as impoverished and underfed as they had when they first arrived in Haven or New Hope, and it made Kel feel proud. Skirts whipped about as the dancers skipped hand over hand down a line._

_"You look like a proper lady in that attire," Fanche said, coming to stand beside them. She gestured to the velvet dress Kel wore. "Very pretty color."_

_"Thank you," Kel said with a blush. "The soldiers were telling me that it wasn't a true Midwinter party unless we were dressed in our finest, and this is the finest I have here." It wasn't a creation of Lalasa's, like most of the clothing she owned. But a young seamstress at New Hope had insisted on gifting her the dark blue gown._

_"Do you intend to dance?" Fanche asked, gesturing to the crowd in front of them._

_Kel blushed deeper. "I'm afraid I'm not very good at dancing. We all had to learn the steps, of course, but learning dances with a bunch of boys means violent games of intentionally stomping on toes."_

_Fanche shook her head, annoyed. "Men. They're horrible even when they're young, aren't they?" She seemed to forget that she had spent several months questioning Kel's abilities, too._

_Kel grinned wryly, sneaking a peek at Wyldon. He was studying her, a slight frown on his coldly handsome face. "Would you care to dance, Lady Knight Keladry?"_

_She loved that he used her title so often. It felt like constant recognition of her accomplishment, and it made her smile that someone – especially Lord Wyldon – could accept her as a lady and a knight. "Of course," she answered._

_They stepped out to the dance floor and Kel could feel everyone's eyes on them. Some of the dancers had even stopped to watch. She didn't like being so conspicuous. Wyldon did not look bothered at all. "They're going to stare no matter what, Keladry. They look up to you."_

_"Or they want to see if I can do something as feminine as dancing," she said, smiling wryly._

_The steps were simple, and Wyldon, at least, did not attempt to stomp on her toes. Her palms were cold against his, and she could feel herself beginning to shake._

_"You never struck me as someone who ever had a problem with nerves," he said, his eyes amused._

_"You never struck me as the dancing type, sir."_

_"We all learned the steps as pages, as you said."_

_"Oh – of course." It was strange to think of him ever having been ten years old, struggling to learn how to become a knight. She knew he'd struggled in life, but – like her – he generally kept a tight reign over his emotions if he did not want them to be known. It was easy to study him as they danced, since his eyes were only an inch or so higher than her own. His lean face, usually so distant and cold, seemed softer. She wanted to speak to him, but could not think of anything. He appeared to be content in their silence, and simply led her around the dance floor. When the music stopped, he released her, but kissed her hand._

_"Thank you, Keladry." He bowed, then made his way to speak to some of the soldiers nearby._

_She watched him go, feeling more confused than ever. Why did she wish so fervently that his arm was still around her, that his hand was still in her own?_

The silence grew between them as she remembered; he, too, appeared to be lost in thought.

"My lord," she began haltingly. "I understand that you have a sense of obligation – the Cavall stables and kennels are famous throughout Tortall. But you also have the ability to hire workers to oversee the breeding and training. You can delegate your responsibilities."

He sighed, setting his fork down. "Come with me, Keladry."

She stood and followed him from the dining room to his office. There he settled himself at his desk – she suspected he was more comfortable with a greater amount of space between them – and gestured for her to sit opposite him.

"You cannot imagine what it's like to lose a spouse, but you do understand what it's like to lose people you are sworn to protect."

She nodded. Even though the wounds had healed, she never forgave herself for being away when Haven was attacked.

"My wife and daughters were mine to protect. I did my daughters well, I think – they're all happy and healthy. But Vivenne… she grew ill when I was at Mastiff. By the time I came back for Margarry's wedding, everything had changed."

Kel gulped. She could not tear her eyes from his, though she would have rather heard him speak of anything else in the world.

"Not because – " Wyldon stopped suddenly, his face growing impassive. "I failed, Keladry. The moment I married her, I promised to protect her and keep her safe, and I couldn't do it."

"So, all this time – you resigned because you failed her? Not because of anything else?"

"Yes." He sighed. "No." He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I don't know, Keladry."

"Have you been spending all this time sorting it out?"

"No." He didn't meet her eyes. "Perhaps I should have."

"It doesn't mean you had to resign from your post," Kel pointed out.

"It doesn't?" he asked, grimacing. "You remember being instructed in the Code before your Ordeal. Being a knight means you swear to protect those weaker than you. It means living in a way that brings honor to your nation and your gods.

"Would you be able to continue to see yourself as an honorable person if you failed the person you promised to care for and protect for the rest of your days?"

Kel couldn't think of anything to say.

"Tomorrow you return to the king," Wyldon said firmly. "You will tell him that I will not resume my services. Tell him I'm not fit to serve him."

Kel always recognized Wyldon's dismissal. She stood and made her way to the door, but paused. "Sir, it's not right."

"What?"

She turned to face him. "You've been punishing yourself for over two years. You've refused to forgive yourself and continually pay penance because you're afraid to face the idea of moving on in any direction. It's easier to stay stagnant. And forgive me for saying so, but I always believed you were a better person than that."

"Sit down, Kel."

It was the use of her nickname that made her return to the chair by his desk. She met his gaze squarely, feeling – not for the first time since she had arrived in Cavall – like the wrinkle-clothed, blacked-eyed page she had been when they first met.

"I believed I was a better person than I've been in the last two and a half years, too. It's true that I've been punishing myself – because I wasn't here for Vivenne when she most needed me. Because of the injustice I had done her. Because I could never make amends for what I had done to her." He sighed, leaning back in his chair. "But I can at least make amends to you."

Kel's heart pounded, but she fought to keep her expression calm. "There are no amends to make," she said stiffly.

"Are we not going to address it?"

She could not handle the intensity of his eyes. She looked out the window instead, involuntarily thinking of more moments she had been trying to forget for the past two years.

_She was pacing along the wall, enjoying the cold, harsh wind against her flushed cheeks. The hall had been far too overheated, with the townspeople and soldiers dancing. She had slipped out, seemingly unnoticed. But when she saw the figure walking toward her, she realized that there was no way she could ever go unnoticed by Wyldon._

_"Sentry duty, Lady Knight?" he asked, his voice low. She could see only half of his face in the dim light – the side that had been raked by a hurrok so many years before. The scar looked mean in the firelight from the Midwinter bonfire in the center of the town._

_"Sometimes it's just nice to get away," she said. She glanced at the sentry post at the other end of the wall. "And an extra pair of eyes never hurt anyone."_

_Wyldon was quiet, looking out at what was visible of the vast rolling countryside. In the distance they could see the light from a traveling caravan. "You've made this camp safe. You've helped turn it into a genuine town."_

_"With the assistance and guidance of many," Kel said. "Including you, sir. I know you will only say that it was your duty to provide the soldiers you did, but it was my duty to protect these people. Just because it's our duty doesn't mean we can't take pride in our work."_

_He gave her that strange, baffled expression she had come to expect whenever she spoke her mind. "You're a remarkable woman, Keladry," he said, resting his hand comfortably over hers on the top of the wall._

_Her heart suddenly raced at the contact, as if it interpreted his action as that of a lover rather than a friendly commander. She liked the comfortable feel of his rough skin against hers, and for a moment wished she had the lily-soft hands of a noblewoman rather than hands covered in an assortment of scars from a variety of encounters – most of which involved a baby griffin. She raised her head to look at him, half afraid that he would show signs of feeling the same surprising jumble of emotions that were running through her mind. Half wanting to see them._

_His eyes were on hers. Kel could see the firelight reflected in them, and though it was too dark to see the color, she knew that she would recognize the exact shade of brown of Wyldon's irises for the rest of her life. How many times had she looked at him since she was ten years old, wishing she could know what thoughts lay behind his impassive expression?_

_But she could read his expression now: he was perplexed._

_"Sir, I – " She stopped short when he reached out and touched her face._

_"You're remarkable," he repeated in a hoarse whisper. When he leaned close to her she could smell the warm cider on his mouth. He hesitated just before their lips touched, as if he were unable to do what his body wanted. She leaned in to meet him, overwhelmed by the flooding of emotion and sensation when they finally kissed, pleased when he wrapped his arms around her._

_Kel had been kissed before; Cleon had shown her how nice kissing really was. The last time she had seen Dom at Steadfast they had managed to spend a good deal of time kissing one another. But it had never been anything like this. Maybe it was experience – Wyldon had been kissing women far longer than Dom or Cleon. Perhaps it was chemistry. His movements did not seem so different from the other men she had kissed – but they had not made her knees go weak, or had so quickly left her yearning for much more than kisses._

_He pressed her against the corner of the New Hope wall, bracing himself with both arms on either side of her while they continued to kiss. She slipped her hands under his warm cloak, resting them against his chest. His heart pounded beneath her shaking fingers._

_"You're shaking," he murmured against her mouth. His lips slid down to her neck, eliciting a small gasp. "Are you cold?"_

_She wasn't registering the temperature. It had been a mild night for December in the north. Between her cloak and his body pressed against her, she was quite warm. She shook with fear. With desire._

_"Kel!" Neal's shout below pulled them to their senses. They jerked away from one another. "I need you to settle a bet!"_

_"I – have to…" she trailed off, unable to tear her eyes from Wyldon's._

_"Go," he said gruffly. She didn't move – she didn't want to leave. "Curse it, Mindelan, just go!"_

_She moved several feet away from him before calling out to Neal._

_"What were you doing up there?" Neal asked, as soon as she reached the ground._

_"Enjoying the quiet," she replied, keeping her expression smooth. She glanced up at the walkway as Neal dragged her back to the festivities. She couldn't see Wyldon in the darkness. She was relieved to know their corner had not been visible, but she wondered if he was watching her from above._

"We don't need to discuss it," she replied finally. "What needs to be said?"

"I shouldn't have taken advantage of you," he said. "I apologize - I don't know what I was thinking."

She looked at him again, her eyes hard. "No apology is needed, my lord."

"You're angry." He sighed. "You should be."

"I've spent the last two years trying to forget," she replied, her voice sounding harsh even to her own ears. "No apology was owed to me because it wasn't a moment created solely by you. You didn't yield to your temptation – I was the one to start things. You might have had it in mind, but I kissed you."

"And I should have stopped you," he said. "But I didn't want to."

"I'm the one who owes you an apology," Kel said stiffly. "You were heeding your sense of honor – you had come to your wits and stopped, but I pushed on. I knew you were married; I was completely in the wrong."

"Keladry, don't do this."

"Do what?" she asked, losing the tight hold she had on her emotions. Her voice shook. "Not let you punish yourself for something that's not entirely your fault?"

"Don't take the blame." He stood and leaned across the desk, bracing himself with his arms. "None of that would have happened if I hadn't sought you out. I knew what I was doing when I came to you. You were as much a victim of my lack of honor as my wife was, and I'm sorry to have ever done that to you. I've wronged you many times, Keladry. This was perhaps the worst."

She let his words sink in. Part of her – the angry part – agreed. She hadn't liked the notion of being any man's mistake – especially a man she respected and liked as much as Wyldon. "I accept your apology," she said, her voice low. She stood to leave – she did not want him to see her misery written all over her face.

"Please stay, Keladry."

She halted at the door, but did not turn to face him. "I tried to put you out of my mind," she said, her voice shaking. "When you resigned, I assumed it was because you were upset with me, upset with yourself. So instead of reliving that moment over and over in my head as I had been doing, I tried to move on." She turned back toward him, for once not trying in the least to be the good Yamani who hid her feelings. "You're not an easy person to forget."

Wyldon said nothing, but looked pained.

"I wanted to fall in love," she said. "I thought it would be the best way to stop thinking about you. I've always been fickle enough in the past – finding someone to fall in love with should have been easy. And I tried. I turned a friendship into a romance, thinking that it would put thoughts of you somewhere else. And after a time, I suppose it did. When the king asked me to come here, I didn't worry about having this conversation – I had put it so far behind me. But seeing you…" she trailed off, shrugging. "It was foolish of me to think that it was truly behind me."

They gazed at each other in silence for a long moment. Every guard that she had mastered as a child was let down; she wanted him to see her for who she was – she wanted him to see every ounce of humiliation and pain she bore, as well as the admiration and affection she had for him. And he, it seemed, did the same. She could see discomfort in his posture – he was uncomfortable with the entire scenario. But he also looked at her with a soft expression. He still cared about her, perhaps not the way she wanted him to care, but as a friend, at least.

"You're the kind of person I want to fall in love with," she said, dropping her gaze. It hurt to admit it to him.

He crossed the small office and lifted her chin. "You shouldn't want that," he said, shaking his head slightly, "but the fact that you feel so is the highest compliment I'll ever receive." It reminded her of the conversation they had nearly ten years earlier, when she'd told him he was the kind of knight she wanted to be. Being so close to him made her breath catch in her throat. "I wanted you that night. Before, even. But the idea of being unfaithful to my wife kept me in line until that moment. I was not free to want you. What is to stop me now?"

She could not reply to tell him that she didn't want anything to stop him.

"You're the bravest person I know," he continued, "yet you shake whenever I touch you." He kissed her gently. Carefully.

Kel was in no state of mind to handle cautious kisses. Two and a half years of longing – longing that she had fought as much as possible – took over, and she pressed herself against him, kissing back with everything she felt. He responded in kind, one hand at the base of her neck and the other wrapping around her waist.

"This isn't appropriate," he murmured between hungry kisses.

"Because you were my training master?" she asked, gasping at the feel of his fingers against her flesh. When had his hand slipped under her shirt? "Because you were my district commander? We're both adults."

"I'm an adult twice your age," he said, pushing her against his office wall.

"Wyldon," she reasoned, "I don't have a problem with that."

He kissed her deeply; one hand braced himself against the wall and the other cupped her breast. Her knees felt weak; Mithros, he could kiss. She had forgotten what his lips felt like against hers, how he could entice and tease her with his tongue. He was simultaneously forceful and playful in ways that made her want more. She felt faint under his touch; she had been touched by men before – Dom's fingers against her breasts had once made her gasp in delight, and Seaver's caresses had made her toes curl – but Wyldon's touch drove her to frenzy. His hands moved lower, unlacing her breeches and sliding against the bare skin of her hips; but he suddenly froze. He was second-guessing himself.

"Please," she begged.

"I shouldn't," he said gruffly, pulling away. His face was troubled, but his breath was ragged.

When she yanked him back, pulling him tightly against her, she could feel how hard he was. He wanted her as much as she wanted him. "Don't think twice," she whispered. "We both need this."

"Are you certain?" he asked. His eyes searched hers.

She nodded and tugged at the pregnancy charm so he could see it over the collar of her shirt. "There's no need for hesitation."

Something in his expression changed at the sight of her charm; he kissed her aggressively, swiftly unbuttoning her shirt. They sank to the rug before the hearth, shedding the rest of their clothes and exploring one another with their hands and mouths. None of these activities were unknown to Kel; she had become familiar with such intimate games since becoming a knight. But no one had ever made her whole body spasm in pleasure, the way Wyldon was able to.

"Take me now," she pleaded.

He was eager to oblige. She winced at the pain of him pushing himself into her, and his expression changed to one of surprise when she inhaled sharply.

"You're still a virgin?" There was a degree of incredulity in his voice.

"Not anymore," she replied with a grimace. She was worried for a brief moment that he would stop altogether.

"Did I hurt you too much?" he asked, his voice surprisingly tender.

"I was trained to work through pain," she said with a wry grin. At his small frown she replied more seriously. "I'm all right – we can continue."

And continue they did. Wyldon was much gentler with her than she would have expected him to be, waiting until her pain had mostly subsided before he began moving slowly within her. She found herself gasping at the sensations she could have never imagined in all her years of wondering about sex. She felt complete, locked together with him in this fashion as he instructed her coaxingly, teaching her new ways to hold her body against his. She liked his smile when she scratched his arms and shoulders, and reveled in his groans when she nipped at his neck. Her hips met his every thrust, urging him deeper. When she begged him to quicken his pace because she felt she would go mad, he paused altogether in order to pull her on top of him, so she was sitting on his lap with her legs wound around him as they faced one another. Placing his hands on her hips, he guided her slowly and deliberately at first, then faster as he kissed her neck and collarbone. They both climaxed in this position, first Kel, burying her head in his shoulder, and Wyldon quickly after.

She said nothing, trying to find some element of composure. Part of her wanted to laugh – she had never felt quite like this in her life. She felt simultaneously invigorated and weak, and her whole body was more relaxed than it had ever felt in her life. Nothing compared to the sweet relief Wyldon had offered her.

"Are you all right?" he asked quietly, his breathing heavy. He wrapped his arms around her protectively.

"I-I'm fine," she said. Her mouth was dry – too much gasping and panting, she realized. She licked her lips, lifting her head from his shoulders. "Better than fine. You?"

"Better than fine," he agreed.

They untangled themselves after a brief kiss. In all her daydreaming of what sex might be like, she had never really thought of the aftermath. She had assumed her first time would be in a bed, where she and her lover would fall asleep in one another's arms. Instead, she found her shirt and quickly donned it. She saw that Wyldon had put his breeches back on and was reaching for his shirt.

"This changes everything, doesn't it?" she asked, her voice low.

"Things were already changed between us," he replied. He did not speak for a moment, seemingly concentrating on the act of pulling his shirt on. "Why didn't you tell me you were a virgin?"

"Why did you assume I wasn't?" she murmured, fumbling with the buttons on her shirt.

Wyldon surprised her with his unease, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other. "I did not realize that virginal women often wore charms to prevent pregnancy."

"They do if they have no plans for a noble marriage. My virginity isn't important, and therefore that much easier to lose, should I want to. I thought I should be prepared."

"Why do you say you have no plans for marriage?" He knelt before the hearth, throwing another log onto the low flames.

"Very few noblemen would entertain the notion of marrying a lady knight. And those who would do not likely have qualms about her virginity or lack thereof," Kel answered, kneeling beside him.

He studied her for a very long time before speaking. "I'm sorry I didn't ask."

"I didn't tell you because I knew you would want to stop." She stared at the fire rather than looking at him.

"Because of last time?"

"Yes," she whispered.

_She had been tending the fire – it was considered bad luck if a Midwinter fire dwindled during the night; after the revelry died down, soldiers had volunteered to keep it going until the morning. Kel's shift – shared with Neal and Merric – ended at one in the morning._

_She made her way back to her office in the staff headquarters; she wasn't in any state of mind to sleep. She kept replaying the memory of Wyldon's kiss in her head, wondering what would have happened if they hadn't been brought to their senses._

_Lord Wyldon was sleeping upstairs, she realized. Kel had not thought anything of sharing her headquarters with guests until now; how many times had he slept there over the last few years?_

_She rested her head in her hands as she gazed at the fire in her office, wondering idly if Midwinter wishes ever came true._

_"Still awake, Keladry?"_

_She jerked upright, surprised to see Wyldon standing in her office doorway. "I-I was unable to sleep. I thought I would at least get some work done."_

_"I couldn't sleep, either," he said, stepping into the small room. Kel couldn't help but think how strange it was that the room had not seemed so small when she was addressing all of Merric's soldiers, but now – with just the two of them – she felt like she had no room to breathe._

_She didn't know how it happened – one minute she was behind her desk, the next she was in his arms, kissing him feverishly. A small, rational part of her brain asked what she was doing – he was her commanding officer. He was a married man._

_But her body only registered him as Wyldon of Cavall – a man she respected and admired more than most people in Tortall. A man who was teaching her with each breath what it was to want, to need. She clung to him and kissed him like she had never kissed anyone before. Her hands instinctively tugged at the buttons on his shirt._

_He responded in kind, his hands roaming over her as his lips trailed down her neck, taking advantage of the comparatively low neckline of her dress. "We can't do this," he murmured, pushing her onto the desk._

_"No, we shouldn't," she whispered. Her hands slipped under his shirt and around his back. She kissed along his hard jaw, moving up toward his ear. She liked the way he groaned when her tongue flicked against his earlobe, and the way his hands clutched at the fabric of her skirts, pushing them upward until his hands could run over her bare thighs. She moved to undo the laces of his breeches, but froze._

_"You have never done this before, have you Keladry?" His voice was low and raspy. He took his hands off of her legs and stepped away from her._

_She blushed furiously, looking away from him. "My inexperience shows, does it?"_

_"Your hesitation," he muttered with a sigh. He rubbed his temples with one hand, masking his eyes from her. "Thank Mithros one of us has common sense."_

_Kel felt disgusted with herself; she should have been relieved that they had halted their advances, but she simply wanted to throw herself at him again. She wanted to feel his hands on her again._

_"Please just go," she whispered, unable to meet his gaze._

 

Kel was unable to sleep that night. It had been awkward, leaving Wyldon's study. But what could be said? She left the office as soon as she was completely dressed; he had wanted to say something to her – an explanation, perhaps? An apology? – but she cut him off and returned to her little room on the second floor.

She lay in bed, staring at the ceiling and wondering exactly what had gotten into her. She had fancied herself in love before, and had enjoyed the kisses and touches of several men before and after her Midwinter fiasco with Wyldon; why did her mind keep returning to his touches? Why had she been so weak to his advances yet again?

Was it more of her fickleness? Did she crave his touch because he was the first to have ever run his hands up her bare thighs or nibble on her ear? No, that certainly could not be the case. This evening he had touched her in ways that only Dom and Seaver had in the past, and now she could barely recall their actions. Her mind was flooded with the way _he_ made her feel. And she felt empty without him, now that she had been joined with him so completely.

Tossing and turning in her bed, she wished she could remove the memories – all of them – from her mind. She wished she could forget the feeling of his body, the whispered endearments. But most of all, she wanted to forget the expression of shame on his face when she told him she knew he would not have made love to her if he had known she was a virgin.

For the first time in years, Keladry cried herself to sleep.

 

The morning was not a pleasant one. Kel woke before dawn to practice her glaive outside because her room did not offer enough space. Her heart sank when she saw Wyldon already in the courtyard, running with Jump. She remembered, years ago, being told that he jogged every morning before dawn. Even if he wasn't fulfilling his knightly duties, he was still maintaining his health and fitness.

She ignored the breath that caught in her throat upon the sight of him; she instead began her slow pattern dances, trying to focus all of her attention on her technique. She gradually increased her speed until the weapon was a blur. Spinning along with it, she tried to find some sense of inner calm. She had spent the last month at the palace with Yuki and Shinko, and was in better practice with the naginata than she had been in years.

When Kel finally paused, wiping the sweat from her brow, she realized that Wyldon was still there, leaning against a fence and scratching Jump's ear. It immediately reminded her of the four years they spent together at the palace – except that Wyldon never let her use a glaive.

"I think I was too harsh on your choice of weapon," Wyldon finally said. "You're surprisingly quick with it."

She rested its staff end on the ground, leaning on it as she panted. "I began learning the glaive as a child. The Yamani teach their women to fend off attackers or rapists with it. If that doesn't teach a girl to fight, what will?"

"Do men use it?"

She nodded. "Not as commonly as other pole arms, but it's taught to men as well."

"Have you tilted lately?" Wyldon asked.

She shook her head. "Not much call to, unfortunately. Raoul goes after any giant in the vicinity, and tournaments aren't held very often these days. Most knights are tired of war games, though I wouldn't mind sparring with someone every now and again."

"Would you be willing to while you're here?" His face was impassive.

Kel could not read his expression any better than she'd been able to as a page, but there was something in his voice that she recognized. He missed jousting, she realized. He had been at Cavall for two years out of guilt, but his isolation did not change the fact that he was a trained warrior who had no one to test his skills against. Not that his skills needed testing; she was fairly certain that even now he would best her in any weapon she chose, save her naginata.

She nodded again. "I will have to borrow a lance, of course."

"Will you walk with me a bit, Keladry?"

She rested her glaive against the fence and he led her around the large keep, to the gardens that grew beside the kitchens. One of the gardeners was tending the vegetable garden, watering one particular patch. Wyldon kept walking in silence, heading for the flower gardens.

"I want to talk freely with you," he began when they were well out of the range of any potential eavesdroppers. "You left so quickly last night that I feel there is much left to be said."

"I left because there was _nothing_ left to say."

"Well, I have plenty to tell you." Wyldon's eyes flicked to hers momentarily before returning to the path before them. "Starting with an apology."

Kel stopped suddenly, unable to mask her anger. "An apology?" she asked, her voice terse. "After I told you yesterday that no apologies were necessary?"

He took her hand and began walking again, pulling her along with him. "Yes, I still owe you an apology because I should have _never_ let you walk out of my office feeling the way you were."

"And how do you think I was feeling?" She fought to maintain her Yamani mask; it not only kept him from reading her expressions, it also gave her a sense of calm.

"I imagine that you were furious with me – I took advantage of your emotions, of your honesty. I shouldn't have touched you until I told you everything that _I_ have been feeling." He stopped walking, and Kel realized that he hadn't released her hand. "I've had a very long time to think about the things that happened at New Hope. But when I came home for the wedding, I first had to face my wife."

Kel's face burned with shame.

"We had a close relationship, Vivenne and I," he continued, releasing Kel's hand. "It was an arranged marriage, and a peculiar one, at that. We were so young when we married that – as my parents assured me – we grew up together and learned to love one another."

She wasn't sure she wanted to hear how much he cared for his deceased wife, but she knew it was better if she let him speak. She trusted that he had a reason for saying all of this.

"She was always my dearest friend, but the heated romance faded over time. We were content with our lives, and still cared very much for one another, but it was not the kind of love we'd shared in our youth." He frowned, gazing down at Kel. "She fell ill while I was at Mastiff, and I had been in contact with the healers all the while." He stopped speaking suddenly, as if he were unable to say anything more.

Kel understood how affections could be misplaced or misdirected. When she had felt her most confused and insecure, she had rushed into Seaver's arms. "Did you find out about her illness that evening? Were you seeking solace of some kind?"

His mouth twisted into a frown. "I had already known she was ill. But that was the week I received word that her illness had no cure." He swallowed thickly. "I hate excuses – you know that as well as I. So I'm not telling you this in an attempt to forgive my actions. I just want you to know both sides of the situation."

"Explanations aren't always excuses, Wyldon."

"You sound like Vivenne," he said, shaking his head. "I would be lying if I said you didn't remind me of her in some ways. I think you're more different than alike, but both of you have a way of cutting through nonsense."

Kel grimaced. She didn't want to be compared or contrasted with Lady Vivenne – but she knew it was inevitable, with the kind of relationship she had with Wyldon. Not that she could define what kind of relationship they had.

"That's probably the last thing you want to hear."

"Not the last." She began to walk again, heading further into the garden. The spring flowers' fragrance and the morning sun's warmth increased with every step as she moved out of the shadow of the keep.

Wyldon matched her stride. He wasn't much taller than her – he hadn't been for years. It was strange that she saw him in her mind as such an imposing figure; he was studier than her, but only just.

"You have to tell me what you're thinking, Keladry."

She looked up at him, smiling wryly. "I have much to sort out, sir, before I can speak of it."

"So you're back to calling me sir?"

She frowned. "I don't know."

"I don't want you to think it was misplaced affection – that I was simply using you as some sort of warm body when my wife wasn't near me."

She nodded curtly. "I understand how these things work – I've had my share of failed romantic endeavors. Sometimes you think you're in love with the person who is nearest and most compatible. It doesn't mean that the affections were false, just that they were… opportunistic."

Wyldon grimaced. "Had I been in my right mind I never would have sought you out – I never would have let my desire get in the way of honor." His voice was low and insistent.

He almost spoke as if his desire for her was something he'd had ease combating in the past, before that Midwinter. It made her recall his words from the previous evening: _I wanted you that night. Before, even_. She stopped in her tracks again, turning quickly to face him. "You're suggesting you'd previously had a mind to do the same thing, but fought it?"

Wyldon's entire body language revealed his discomfort, but his eyes were steady as he gazed at her. "Yes."

She had always seen him as the most honorable man she'd ever met; even during the time everyone knew he didn't want her to train as a knight, she had assumed the best of him. He had once complimented her on being a true knight, and had told her that she was the best product of his years as a training master. Perhaps honor was not a black and white issue, as the Code of Chivalry had taught her. The most honorable person she'd ever met had a cheating heart. And the most honorable person he'd ever met had encouraged that infidelity.

"I'm not sure what to say," Kel admitted.

"I understand."

She wasn't certain that he did, but she didn't want to discuss it further. "I have to ask – have you given thought to going to Corus? To return to the king's service?"

"No," he answered, his wide mouth twisting into the slightest of smiles. "I've had other things on my mind."

"In that case, I'll need to return to my room so I can write a letter."

 

Kel remained in her room for much of the day. After breakfast she quickly penned a message to King Jonathan's ministers, informing them that she had reached Cavall and was trying to work Wyldon around, mentioning that he was reluctant to return to service, but clearly showed signs of missing the military life.

She did not write why Wyldon was reluctant. Telling King Jonathan that a knight questioned his ability to live by the Code of Chivalry would mean nothing; Sir Myles of Olau frequently taught pages to question and challenge it. Kel herself had seen plenty of knights who did not embrace it heartily. But Wyldon was not one of those knights.

Nor was she.

Facing the fact that she was not as honorable a knight as she'd once thought herself to be was crushing. Two and a half years prior, when she had berated herself for getting emotionally and physically entangled with a married man, she had thought of it as a matter of the heart rather than a matter of the Code. He had given her plenty of food for thought.

As the day wore on a thousand more questions jumbled through her mind. Joriana brought lunch, insinuating that her master had indicated that Kel was not feeling very well. She also brought Kel's clothes from the day prior; they were washed, pressed and neatly folded. Kel thanked her and nibbled at the meal. Afterward she tried to push off thoughts by cleaning and polishing her weapons, but her mind continued to race around particular ideas.

She would never find peace until she sought out the answers.

Wyldon wasn't in the keep, though. Kel poked her nose in every room, hoping to find him. She eventually did locate him in the stables, mucking out one of the stalls. He looked happy, she realized, doing such ordinary work.

She glanced around before she spoke, assuring that no one was near to overhear.

"Why was my virginity such an issue?"

He did not react with surprise at the sound of her voice; as focused as he appeared to be, he had already noticed her arrival. He stopped, wiping the sweat from his brow with the sleeve of one arm. He stared at her, confusion etched on his handsome face. "What?"

"At New Hope you stopped because I was a virgin. Last night you seemed to regret everything that happened. Why was my virtue an issue?"

He leaned against the pitchfork, frowning. "At New Hope it reminded me what I was attempting to get myself into – and brought to mind all the reasons I should stop."

"And last night?" she asked. "Would you have stopped, had you known?"

"Quite possibly."

"Why? It should be inconsequential to you, whether I'm a virgin or not. That concern is only mine and the Goddess's." She wasn't trying to be stubborn or difficult. She simply wanted to know why he chose to make such a deal of things.

"Keladry," he said, setting the pitchfork aside and moving toward her. "I agree – the issue of a woman's virtue is her own. Especially in your situation, when there is no arranged marriage looming on the horizon. However, I am not comfortable with the notion that you may marry another man some day while I am responsible for having taken your virginity."

Kel rubbed her temples, irritated. "And why are you uncomfortable with that?"

He sighed. "I told you before that my marriage was arranged. But there were many details I left out – like the fact that Cavall was in disrepair and my mother found an heiress who needed to marry quickly."

"She was pregnant?" Kel asked incredulously, her voice in a low whisper. "Are you suggesting that Lady Eiralys is not your daughter?"

"She's mine," Wyldon assured her, frowning deeply. "Vivenne was not pregnant at the time – but her parents had learned of her indiscretions and wanted her married before the situation could grow worse. I was chosen to be her husband. I didn't want to be wed, having just earned my shield, but I knew it was best for Cavall."

"You've never been with a virgin," Kel said, realization dawning on her.

"No. And I feel as though I've had something that was not mine to take."

"But it was mine to give."

"It was a precious gift."

He gazed at her freely, his expression soft, but made no move toward her. Kel realized that this was her call – she had been upset with him, after all, and had demanded space and time to think. She closed the space between them, tilting her head up slightly to meet his lips. She thought, after the previous evening, there was no more to learn of Wyldon's kisses. Nothing could have been less true. He moved his hands to the small of her back, pulling her impossibly closer to him as he kissed her sweetly.

"We should be talking instead of kissing," he murmured, but he didn't release her.

Kel wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him back to her mouth. Talking could wait.

 

Over the next three days Kel did not mention returning to the capital. Instead she and Wyldon spent almost every waking moment together – as well as every sleeping moment. She learned about Cavall and what made Wyldon tick; they practiced with weapons together and rode through the forests in the afternoons. They had even begun jousting, and Wyldon was not kinder on her in light of their new relationship. Kel was royally pounded, but found that he made it up to her in ways that Raoul never could.

"You haven't asked me if I'm going to go to Corus," Wyldon said one evening, when they were in bed.

Kel propped herself up on her elbow, peering at him in the low candle light. "I was respecting your privacy."

"You were neglecting your duty."

"Not neglecting so much as putting it off for a bit," she admitted. She traced the scar that ran from his temple into his hairline with her index finger. "And you should be the last one to chastise me for that. Have you given it thought?"

"A bit," he admitted.

"It couldn't hurt to find out what the king wants of you."

"I know you're right," he said reluctantly.

"Is it fear?" Kel asked. "I can understand your reluctance if you fear the worst will happen to you again."

Wyldon said nothing for a very long moment, staring at the ceiling. "It's shame." He sighed. "I turned my back on everything I was raised to respect – my family, my duty as a knight. The Code of Chivalry."

He's broken, Kel realized. Her insecurity had vanished after their conversation in the stable; she understood that his regrets had less to do with her and more to do with his own past. But she had still recognized that he hadn't completely come to terms with their previous behavior, and their affection for one another and ability to act upon it now did not rectify the problem in his eyes. They'd had several discussions, dissecting their feelings and analyzing their actions. But this side of Wyldon – this shame he was feeling – went far deeper than guilt over stolen kisses and desires barely held in check.

"I think the world is more forgiving than you are," she said finally, lying down again. She draped one arm over his chest. "The king would not request your service if he were disappointed in you. I wouldn't have agreed to come here, if I felt that you were unworthy."

"You've made a habit of thinking the best of me," Wyldon said with a frown.

"There were times I thought the worst of you," she pointed out. "But then I would evaluate everything I know of you, and it was impossible to think so harshly."

"I resigned after Margarry's wedding because I needed to be home with Vivenne," Wyldon said after a very long pause. "And the king came to her funeral, against the better judgment of his advisors. But he did so in order to request that I return to service."

"You refused?"

He nodded. "I did more than refuse. I told him all the reasons I should not be considered a knight of the realm, and should not be in service in any capacity." He looked at her meaningfully.

"You – you told the king about me," she whispered through numb lips.

"I told him only of my feelings for you – not of any of our actions," he assured her, reaching out to caress her cheek. "I was explaining to him why I was unfit for command."

"And he sent me here – assigned me to wear you down until you were back in service – because he thought I might be your weakness," Kel said bitterly, recalling her conversation with the king.

_"I'm in need of a knight, and you're between border assignments, Lady Knight Keladry," the king said, gesturing for her to be seated across from him._

_"I'm yours to command, your majesty," she said, taking the offered chair._

_"You very well know that Lord Wyldon of Cavall retired shortly before the death of his wife," King Jonathan began. "Few have heard from him since that time, and we're in need of his expertise. I'd like to issue him an invitation to return to service."_

_"I'm not sure how I can be of help to you, your majesty," Kel admitted. While she was not particularly fond of her king, she had to acknowledge that he was a good ruler and his ideas usually made sense once explained._

_"I would send this with a courier," he said, holding up a leather scroll case, "but a courier would not have your ability to appeal to Lord Wyldon's sense of chivalry."_

_"I'm sorry," Kel said, confused. "Are you asking me to reason with Lord Wyldon so he comes back?"_

_"Yes."_

_"He will not be persuaded by me," she insisted._

_"I think you will be surprised," King Jonathan replied. "He has spoken highly of you in the past."_

_She fought to keep her expression smooth. "Your majesty, he will send me back to you with a letter of refusal."_

_"Then he must be informed that he has to issue his refusal in person," the king said, smiling. There was something in his expression that Kel did not like. "And you are to stay in Cavall until he agrees to return."_

_"Owen of Jesslaw would probably be better suited to this task," Kel pointed out. "They're family now, after all, and he's available."_

_"I want you to do this, Keladry." His voice was firm. "I have faith in your ability to win Wyldon over, and I think you have the ability to convince him to come back to service more than anyone else I could send." He placed the scroll case in her hand. "Mithros guide you."_

"You _are_ my weakness," Wyldon said, kissing her. "He was right because he knew that you would be the only person I might listen to."

"It's still unfair," Kel said, sniffing with disdain. "I don't understand why he doesn't just command you – when you were knighted you vowed to serve the crown, after all."

"Because Cavall is a powerful fief. My dissent could be detrimental to the king's progress, so it's better to politely ask and persuade before exercising royal authority."

"And have you been persuaded?" Kel asked, kissing him deeply.

"This is counter-intuitive," Wyldon replied between kisses. "You were instructed to stay here until I agreed to speak with the king, which means that I could be content for a very long time without making a decision."

"Except that for all your reservations, you're still a chivalrous person," Kel said, snuggling up against him. "Once your mind is made up, I think you will go to Corus."

 

"Have you seen my Lord Wyldon?" Kel asked Joriana several days later.

The housekeeper looked up from her work and frowned slightly. "Today's the seventh of the month," she replied, glancing out of a western window. "He'll be visiting Lady Vivenne's grave."

"He does so every month?" Kel asked.

Joriana nodded. "His devotion is sweet, but Lady Vivenne wouldn't want him living his life like this. I thought maybe now that you –" she flushed, turning her gaze away from Kel's. "Forgive me, my lady. I was out of line."

Kel blushed. "You've been here far longer than I have, so you're more than entitled to your opinions."

"I've been in this household since he was eight years old, and I've watched him go through so many changes in recent years," Joriana said. "It was heart-breaking to see him two years ago, when everyone left after the funeral. He shut himself off from the world."

"You said that only family visited. Did he go anywhere?"

The old woman shook her head. "He's immersed himself in the work of Cavall, and says he doesn't have the luxury to travel. Never mind that Lady Vivenne was able to, and she managed the fief and raised four girls while he was in the capital.

"The girls visit him, at least," she continued. "Sunarine was here with her husband just two months ago. It brought a bit of sunshine to this dreary place."

Kel looked out the window. "Do his – visits – last long?"

"It depends. Some days their conversations are longer than others." Joriana took Kel's hand in her own. "Go find him," she said, gesturing toward the door to the kitchen gardens. "Just follow the path into the forest."

"I don't want to disturb him," Kel replied, shaking her head.

"Nonsense," Joriana admonished. "He needs to be reminded that you are alive, and so is he. He cannot completely wrap himself in his past. He seems so content with you near him."

Kel finally conceded, wondering how much the older woman knew about Wyldon's heart. He certainly was wrapped up in the past, constricted by his own feelings of guilt. She followed the path that led into the forest, walking quickly but quietly. The Cavall cemetery was in a large clearing, and in its center knelt Wyldon on one knee before a small but ornate headstone.

"Joriana told you I was here, didn't she?" he asked, his voice low. He did not turn to look at Kel.

"Yes. She suggested I come out."

"And she told you that I come here each month?"

"She did." She stepped closer to him. "Are you still looking for some sort of absolution?"

He shook his head, standing. "It's easier to sort out my thoughts if I share them. And sometimes I feel like she's the one who would understand me the best."

"I can leave," she said, taking several steps backward.

"No," he replied firmly. He stood, brushing the grass and mud from his breeches. "I'm done here. I've decided."

"About going to Corus?" Kel asked, surprised.

He nodded. "I'm going to resume my service with the king," he said solemnly.

"You are?" She had hoped, but wasn't sure that he would choose this for himself. "What made you decide?"

He studied her for a long moment before speaking. "You did."

Kel narrowed her eyes. "So the king was right in sending me here, knowing that I am the chink in your armor?"

"No," Wyldon replied calmly, winding his way between headstones. "The king was right because he knew that facing you was the only way I would be forced to address the entire situation. The only way to accept how lowly I was thinking of myself."

" _He_ doesn't think lowly of you," Kel said, her voice soft and insistent.

"I know." Wyldon reached her side and took her hand in his. "And I'm learning not to, either."

"When will you be leaving for Corus?" Kel asked.

"Tomorrow."

"All this is over, isn't it?" She didn't want it to end. But if Wyldon was placed in a position above her, she couldn't continue the relationship.

"Possibly." His voice was low and thick with emotion. He knew that she would not sleep with her district commander. "It depends on what the king wants of me."

"Your knightly duties are more important than… whatever it is we have." A small part of her protested, but she knew she was being selfish. Being a knight was his whole life. She was simply the last week.

"I disagree," he said firmly. "This is more important to me than you could know." He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand and gazed at her, his expression surprisingly soft. "If I'm placed in a position above you, would you be willing to wait it out?"

"I fought to move on when there was no hope, and couldn't," she admitted. "I think I can wait until our assignments allow us to be together, if that's what we both want."

"Will you travel with me?" he asked. His voice was not the commanding tone she had known most of her life, but a tender pleading.

She knew it might be there last chance to be together as lovers for Mithros knew how long. "Of course. I have to go back to get my orders, either way," she acknowledged.

He held her tightly, not saying a word. She wrapped her arms around him and rested her head on his shoulder. It felt so right – even after years of confusion and misery on both their parts. She suspected that it might be love, but didn't want to explore that feeling just now. Instead she removed herself from his arms and led him back to the keep, so they could pack their bags and head for Corus.


End file.
